The Cadillac Burn
by Nappy
Summary: When Kyle can't take the stress from his mother anymore, he runs with Kenny, his old friend. Over hours of nothing but the road and each other, they realize they are not so different, and that this Cadillac has burned them both. K2, M for later chapters.
1. Gone Unrecognized

AN:

I wrote this on the twelve hour drive from my hometown to Ashville, North Carolina on my way to Hilton Head, South Carolina. We still have four hours to drive tomorrow. The big bad period monster is rearing its ugly head and I'm cramping. :C Not a happy camper. But it's not too bad. I'm tired. XD So, here you go. KSquared.

"I'm leaving."

Eighteen year old Kenny McCormick looked up from his magazine at the sudden appearance of his old friend. The blond was minding his own business on a boring summer afternoon, flipping through an old Playboy magazine. His sky blue eyes had grazed the skimpy-clad ladies time after time that their bouncy breasts no longer stirred movement in his jeans, but offered faux entertainment on a day where there was nothing to do. The 'legendary four', including Kyle, Stan, Cartman, and yours truly had broken up their group about four years ago when Stan decided Wendy came first place in his life. Even after the countless breakups they experienced, Stan was still under her spell. She forced him to commit, which meant his friends were dropped. He tried to make things worth while still giving Wendy all the attention she required, but his visits with the guys gradually waned. Kyle and Kenny wanted to think she'd dump him and he'd come to his senses, but Cartman saw the truth they refused to acknowledged. Before long, the fat ass focused completely on his football and student council president, using his power for the worst. He wasn't a president, so much as an evil dictator, and the occasional malicious look that flashed in his eye as a child became permanent.

So, without the two main characters to glue them together, the redhead and blond unwillingly broke apart, as well. Kyle got in with the artists, much to his mother's dismay, and the math team, to please her. Without any better influence to sway him, Kenny pegged himself where it was easiest—the Goth druggies. They seemed to accept him because of his random encounters with death, finding it somehow 'inspiringly dark and nonconformist'. Over the span of two years, they tried to engulf him completely by pressing black hair dye and ear piercings at him, but he refused. He enjoyed not looking like a complete fag, thanks. Before long, they booted him out, marking him too conformist to be with them. Even still, being with them for so long made him used to cigarettes and alcohol. He would steal the goods from his drunken father when he wasn't paying attention, easily growing an addiction to the stuff. He became a loner, rarely even getting a girlfriend. He would often have quick lays with Raisins girls, but never wanted a commitment. He went down the general tubes, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, no matter how much Mr. Mackey tried to convince him otherwise. It didn't matter how much he fucked himself up, he would never receive the consequences. His grades turned to shit, okay, he could never get into college, but why should he, anyway? He was perfectly content with his job at the local auto body shop and didn't have advancing plans for the future, anyway. His body was somewhat alive, but his heart was dead. It died long ago, for it had no reason to live.

Now here stands a blast from the past, his old friend Kyle Broflovski in his bedroom doorway, face beet red. Kenny's room was a mess, but either Kyle didn't notice or he didn't care. His chest heaved, which gave evidence that he ran the entire distance to the blonde's far-off trash home specifically to see him. That was weird. Even when the four were friends, they hated going to Kenny's house. It was dirty, had no food, and always stank of stale cigarettes, yet Kyle, again, seemed not to care.

"Excuse me?" Kenny spoke up, lowering his boring magazine.

"I said, I'm leaving!" The redhead growled, scratching his fingernails into the dirty doorframe. "I can't stand my family anymore and I want you to ruin me. Drive me far away from here."

Kenny stared at him hard and stood, an eyebrow raised. He walked closer and grabbed the curly orange head, tilting it back so the taller blond could examine him. His eyes seemed normal, not blood-shot or dilated with signs of drugs. His breath smelled normal without the smallest hint of alcohol. "Dude, are you feeling okay?" Maybe Kyle's brain stem had finally snapped from the pressure of having a fat bitch as a mother. Stan was usually always the one to think things through while Kyle broke into uncensored rage, but he never decided anything as tremendous as running away.

"I'm fucking fine!" He hissed, slapping the tan hands away. "I came to you because I knew you wouldn't give a damn about my reasons. I have money and I can pay for the gas, food, and lodgings, please just drive me out of this god damned town!" Kenny stepped back in surprise, eyes widened slightly at his outburst. He was used to seeing the fiery redhead rage, but it was always directed at Stan or Cartman, never him. Kenny always blended in the back. The only time the focus was on him was when he died for real. Well, for a month or two. He got caught up in Hell at the time, having a little mini-fling with Damien. That eventually came crashing down and he was sent back to Earth.

Kenny huffed and shrugged. "Kay, guess I can't turn that offer down. One second." He held up a vague index finger and turned, grabbing his ratty school bag. He dumped the books and papers on his bed and filled it with his few favorite garments, along with the savings he had been building from work. He shoved his PSP inside and grabbed his car keys, flinging the bag over his shoulder. After all, he had nothing significant to bring along. He was the poor kid. He had nothing.

"All right," The blond hummed, taking one last glance around the room. He grabbed the burnt orange and pillow off his bed, shoving the bundle into Kyle's arms. "My car only knows burning heat and freezing air conditioning. I haven't fixed the systems yet, so you might want that." Kyle nodded, having seemed to calm down enough to understand what was said to him. He followed his orange-clad friend through his house, pausing as they reached the kitchen where his parents were screaming at each other as usual.

"Bye, guys, running away, never coming back, have fun with Karen's puberty," Kenny waved a dismissing hand at his neglecting parents.

"Yeah, that's great, we're so proud of you," His mother growled out, appearing as though she was about to deck his drunk father. Kenny grunted and stepped out of the house, glancing over his shoulder at the redhead. The angry expression seemed to have dissipated to a melancholy one as he followed down the steps, his eyes on his feet.

"You okay, dude?" Kenny asked as he opened his fixed up '46 Cadillac's back door, flinging his bag inside. Kyle followed suit with the bundle and nodded.

"Just trying to figure out if anyone on the planet has a good family," He mumbled, glancing to the side.

Kenny shrugged, kicking the door shut. The old 1946 chipped-burgundy Cadillac was his pride and joy. It appeared as though it was the pride of its day, and that day was a _long _time ago. He got the piece of shit cheap at a used car lot. When he bought it, only the back right door opened, the front bumper looked like the angry face of a disgruntled Mr. Garrison, the air conditioning was either sweltering hot or freezing cold, the radio only sang a lullaby of AM static, the windows were stuck closed, and the trunk door refused to be shut. Kenny couldn't believe the treasure he found for only one hundred bucks, and the salesman couldn't believe the luck at finding a kid dumb enough to buy the hunk of useless metal. After a year of tinkering with it whenever he got the money to buy the materials, she finally resembled a moderately fair car with relatively decent mileage. He gave her a brand new used bumper and painted her a renewed dark red, finishing it with coating the vintage seats with fake tan leather. When Kenny was finished, she looked so beautiful, he actually cried. Like, serious tears falling down his face crawling. Of course, it was a hollow victory and embarrassing end, for he had no one to brag about it to. He had no one to show his pride and joy to. He had put nearly a thousand dollars into the beauty, along with several deaths and buckets of sweat, but it didn't matter to anyone but him. He tried telling his parents his accomplishment and his father replied with an encouraging 'You have a car?' His family rocked.

"Token," The blond offered, rounding the hood to jump in the driver's seat. "Them rich kids got everything, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Kyle nodded and got inside the passenger seat, looking around the interior. He had never actually been inside the car. Kenny sorted through his multiple key chains until he grabbed his car key, shoving it in the stick ignition.

"You did this yourself?" The redhead asked, running his hand admiringly along the smooth fake leather.

Kenny blinked, glancing over at his friend. "Um… yeah. I've been working on it for a year now."

Kyle looked up at him with a small smile, forest green eyes boring into his sea blues. "It looks really good."

"Uh… thanks," The blond stuttered, surprised to finally get a compliment about his baby. He flashed him a smile, putting the car into reverse. "Thanks, dude! Do you know you're the first to compliment her? Actually, you're the first to notice her."

"Really?" The redhead murmured, pulling his seatbelt on. "That's retarded."

"Yeah, I know." Kenny carefully pulled out of the driveway, making sure there were no beer bottles littering the cement. He had the mistake of not looking first and he had to pay nearly two hundred to fix his back tire. He screamed to his parents about it, but again they didn't pay attention. They never did. "So, you're seriously running away, then?"

"Yep," The pale lips popped at the 'p' and the grave expression came over his face again.

"Do I need to know why?"

"Nope." Another pop.

"Fair enough. Do you want to get your clothes or something?"

The Jew grimaced, a shiver running down his spine. "Fuck no. I never want to see those people again. I can buy new clothes."

The blond glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. "Damn. Well, you have to have clothes or something. We can break in your room without them knowing. It'd be easier and less expensive than getting new clothes." He could feel the cogs churning in his friend's head as he weighed the pros and cons.

"Fine, but you look in the window first. If anyone's inside, I'll just suffer through getting new clothes."

Kenny sighed and nodded, heading through to streets to where he knew Kyle's house sat. The question of what happened to push Kyle off the edge tugged at his mind, but he came to Kenny in the first place because he wouldn't ask questions, so he decided not to ruin his little reputation. They drove in silence for ten minutes until they arrived at Kyle's house. If Kyle didn't bristle when they drove up, it would've been difficult to tell which house was actually his. Every house in South Park looked exactly the same, because the founders of the town were so fucking original.

"We'll sneak around back and climb the tree to my room," Kyle said as they stepped out of the Cadillac, heading to the backyard. Kenny marveled at how clean the exterior was. Instead of beer bottles and cigarette butts, petunias were planted in neat rows around the edges of the walls. A large oak stood proud in the middle of the back yard, its longest limb reaching Kyle's open window. Kenny remembered a situation like this once. He was trying to get into Kyle's window to surprise him with a sneak hello, but instead he misplaced his footing and ended up breaking neck on the fall. He woke up twelve hours later in his front yard with a very stiff neck. People just didn't know how to treat his dead body. He shook his head, starting up the tree. That was years ago and he was stronger now. It wasn't that long of a distance and he probably wouldn't die from it, but just get a broken something.

"Anyone there?" Kyle whispered as Kenny reached the farthest limb to peer inside. He peaked in and, upon not seeing anyone, leaned in for a better look. He glanced over his shoulder where the redhead waited nervously.

"Nope." The blond flung his long legs inside the strangely clean room, examining it. He huffed, glaring lightly as Kyle followed. "Jesus, what kind of guy are you? This place is clean enough to be a chick's room."

"Well, a bitch surveys it daily, so it has to be up to par or I'll get an hour's lecture of the importance of personal hygiene." Kyle rolled his eyes and grabbed a random duffel bag, setting it on his tucked bed. Kenny lay beside it as he watched Kyle scurry about the room, filling the duffel neatly with his favorite clothes and little essentials such as his cell phone, laptop, and an atlas. Luckily, Kyle paid for his own cell phone program, so his parents couldn't cancel his subscription. He grabbed the duffel and headed into the bathroom to load up his toiletries. He opened the second drawer where a thin wooden box sat. He glanced over to Kenny to make sure he wasn't watching, and opened the lid. He grabbed a handful of condoms and the lube that sat inside, shoving them in the bottom of the bag. One could never be too prepared. They might end up at a bar some lonely night and the always organized Kyle wanted to be ready. After deciding he grabbed everything, he slung the duffel over his shoulder and returned to where his friend waited.

"Ready?" He asked, looking down at the blond.

"Yep," He nodded and stood, glancing around. "Just marveling at how much nicer the wealthy live." He let out a weak chuckle as he headed back to the window, crawling onto the tree. Kyle swung him the duffel as he did the same, speeding down to get on the road. Once they were set once more, Kenny set off to another road for them to plot their course.

"So, where are we headed?" The blond wondered as the redhead scanned his atlas, his finger running along the long page.

"Baltimore," He replied, using a black pen to mark what route to take.

Kenny raised an eyebrow, looking over at the map. "Baltimore? Why Baltimore?"

"I received a full-ride scholarship to an Art Institute there." The corner of Kyle's lips turned up in a small smile as he stared at Baltimore's large label over the state of Maryland. He was so proud the day the acceptance letter came in the mail. "We took a vacation there about two summers ago and I loved it. Mom thought it was too hot and sunny, but it was amazing. You can actually see the sun down there."

Kenny glanced up at the pale face, smiling a bit. It was rare to see someone so passionate in a place like South Park, the town of bums. "Congrats, dude. What are you going to do there?"

The Jew paused, biting his lower lip before he answered. "I want to draw."

The blond nodded, resting his chin his palm. "That's cool. Don't forget me when you're the next Mozart."

Kyle's head fell back against the head rest in laughter, shaking his head. "You moron, Mozart is a musical composer!"

Kenny blushed a bit, giving him a sheepish side smile. "Hey, shut up, dude, I never claimed to be smart. Be like Michelangelo or something, is that right?"

The redhead glanced at him, still hiccupping giggles. "Yeah, that works. Thanks, dude." He rolled his eyes and looked back at the map, the grin remaining. He had had the scholarship for six months and no one had congratulated him on it. Not one person, especially not his parents. Instead, they were disappointed.

With a sigh, the redhead folded the long atlas to have the map face up. "Okay, let's go. We'll take 70 most of the way until we get to 79. It's mostly a straight trip."

Kenny nodded slowly and started the Cadillac up again, following Kyle's direction silently. The redhead laughed like he hadn't in quite a while. Had he been in the same rut as the blond? Why did he seem so surprised to receive praise? Kenny didn't ask, but he wondered. He would ask later.


	2. Let It Be

AN:

Disclaimer, you all know it. SP = M+T, song = Beatles, yadda yadda. Have fun!

Can anyone tell me what foreshadowing is?

-answer if you're awesome enough to have watched A Very Potter Musical-

The two teens drove in silence for nearly an hour, content in the silence. Instead of having to endure the temperamental conditioning's wrath, they settled with keeping all the windows open just a smidge. That smidge allowed a cool breeze to blow the stuffiness out of their confined spaces. Before long, though, Kenny became bored of the silence and pushed in his favorite mixed CD. Interested in the sudden movement, Kyle watched him as he did so, unable to recognize the disc's cover.

_I look at all the lonely people_

_I look at all the lonely people_

_Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where her wedding has been_

_Lives in a dream_

_Waits at the window_

_Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door_

_Who is for?_

_All the lonely people_

_Where do they all come from?_

_All the lonely people_

_Where do they all belong?_

Kyle huffed, staring at the modern radio plugged into the vintage dashboard.

"What?" Kenny asked, glancing at him.

"The Beatles?" The redhead raised an eyebrow at him, giving a little smug grin.

"You dissing the Beatles? I'd have to kick you out of this Cadillac."

Kyle giggled a little and relaxed in his seat again, shaking his head. "No, they're fine; I just never pegged you as a Beatles guy. I figured you like… like, KISS more or something. Or screaming death metal."

"Nah. Too much noise. It gives me a headache. I like the oldies. What about you?"

Kyle stayed silent, looking out the window. The blond elbowed his ribcage, retrieving a glare from the action.

"What?" Kyle pouted.

"What music do you like?"

"Music I shouldn't like."

"Which is?"

The redhead sighed and ran his fingers through his curls, resting his head in his hand. "Country, mostly. But the girly country stuff, like Rascal Flatts and Brad Paisley. The gay stuff."

Kenny snickered, shaking his head. "Dude, why shouldn't you like that stuff? It's your own opinion. You should have a say in what music you like."

The atmosphere suddenly stiffened as Kyle glanced out the window, tapping his fingers to the beat of the smooth song. "Not if you're my mother's son. According to her, I can only like Vivaldi and Bruce Springsteen. I don't like Bruce Springsteen. Vivaldi's fine, I guess, but… I like Rascal Flatts."

Hmm. The blond nodded slowly and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, contemplating his partner. He had heard he had great triumphs in the local orchestra with his violin. He remembered his mother forced him to start taking violin lessons near the end of their friendship and that he whined about hating it. He said it make his fingers all calloused, thus forcing Cartman to call him a pussy Jew who can't take a little finger pain.

"I might have something you'd like," Kenny mumbled, turning the music down a bit to hear Kyle better. "Check the glove box. I have a CD case in there."

Kyle obeyed, finding the ratty black case full of miscellaneous mixed CD's. The Beatles, Styx, Don McLean, Linkin Park, Aerosmith, Elvis Presley, Guns N' Roses, Pink Floyd, Queen, The Rolling Stones, The Who, Madonna, Rascal Flatts, Brad Paisley. Kyle giggled as he held up the Madonna CD, staring at him.

"Madonna? Seriously? Are you fucking gay?"

Kenny pouted and smacked his head, "Bitch, I like her early work! She's danceable!"

"She's a moron."

"So am I, we fit."

The teasing smile fell off Kyle face as he put the CD back. "You're not a moron, Kenny."

"I graduated as the fifth dumbest kid in our class. I was below Jimmy Vulmer. If that's not a sign that I'm a moron, I don't know what is. And this coming from the guy who was valedictorian."

The redhead shrugged, flipping mindlessly through the CD's. He ignored the valedictorian comment. He only filled that position because his mother refused to feed him until all his homework was finished in excellence. As he entered his junior and senior year, he often didn't eat until midnight. "GPA doesn't count for anything, dude. You don't need to be book smart to be intelligent. You have awesome common sense and I bet you have great street smarts. I'll have to keep you around in Baltimore so I don't get lost."

Yeah, street smart. He spent a lot of time on the streets, so he should have acquired that trait. Instead of saying so, he simply shrugged. The atmosphere tensed further until the Jew let out a pleased squeal, holding up the case.

"Flatts and Brad! Haha, awesome! You no longer have a weird taste in music." Kyle twisted in his seat to look up at the taller blond with wide eyes. "Can I play them? Please?"

Kenny glanced at him with a forced apathetic face, vastly amused by his sudden childishness. He rolled his eyes and looked back at the road. "After my CD's done."

Kyle huffed but nodded, returning to his straight position. They listened in content silence as John Lennon sang them his vintage lullabies. Soon the last song of the track, Kenny's personal favorite, 'Let It Be', came on. After getting used to only driving himself, he tended to sing aloud to this specific song.

"When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom; let it be…" The blond hummed, his finger tapped to the slow beat. "Let it be…"

"You're singing."

Kenny jumped, forgetting the silent Jew was next to him. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. This song is so orgasmic, it's hard not to."

"It's okay. You're good at singing." Kyle remembered the time when Kenny had gotten accepted into a weird singing school somewhere in Europe. They said he decided to attend, but strangely enough, he was back in school the next day. Kyle had questioned him about it, but the young parka-clad boy simply shrugged and muffled something he couldn't understand.

The blond nibbled at his lip and didn't respond, staring straight ahead, ears burning a light red. He wasn't used to being focused on so completely. As a child, the other three of his group were the focus. As they drifted apart, it was no different. No matter what Kenny did, the attention he wanted he never received. Now, eight years later, Kyle plopped on his doorstep and demanded he take him across the country to Baltimore. 'To ruin him' he specifically said. Ruin him how?

"Hey, Kyle?" Kenny spoke up softly, squeezing the Cadillac's wheel randomly.

"Hmm?" He hummed, staring lazily out the window. The setting sun shone against him, making his skin appear porcelain and his bright curls a soft copper. The blond felt a queer urge to run his fingers through the curls and watch them pop back into their twisted state. The teenage years had been good to Kyle Broflovski. His wild mane of curls eventually tamed to loose ringlets that framed his face and lower neck. The awkward fire orange burned to a gentle copper shine, only accentuating the inhumanely pale skin. As for his build, he wasn't short, but he wasn't endlessly tall, either. He had somewhat of a swimmer's physique with long limbs and a flat stomach, his body sprinkled randomly with healthy muscle tone.

"Uh… What did you mean by ruin you?"

The redhead turned his head, liquid emerald eyes looking at him in confusion. "Huh?"

"When you kidnapped me," He smiled a bit, but it quickly faded. "You said you wanted me to ruin you. What did you mean?"

"Oh, that…" Kyle sighed, looking into his lap. He crossed his arms and glanced angrily out the window. Kenny noticed that when Kyle was upset, his lower lip jutted out, and his jaw clenched. "All my life, I've lived by how my mother wanted. I joined the stupid math team because it made her happy. I was the top of the class because she wouldn't let me eat until all my homework was finished perfectly. My grades have always matters much more than myself. I want to do something she'll despise and maybe she'll see I'm not the perfect kid she thinks I am."

Kenny listened silently as the redhead spoke, unaware of the smile growing on his face. However, the Jew spotted it and glared.

"Kenny, what the fuck?"

"I guess we're not too different, after all. We're opposites, but kind of stuck in the same boat. Your parents want to steer your life completely and mine don't give a damn about what I do. Your mom won't acknowledge what you want to do and mine doesn't even know I do anything. You're a genius and I'm an idiot. We're both sort of stuck in these stereotypes and expectancies in life."

"Dude."

The blond glanced at the obviously shocked redhead.

"Dude, that was totally deep," Kyle gasped, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

Kenny laughed and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess that's been known to happen sometimes."

The redhead chuckled awkwardly and nodded, making himself look busy with his atlas. He only moved to change the ending Beatles CD with Rascal Flatts, curious as to what album it was. He grinned when the first song, 'Fast Cars and Freedom', sang from the surrounding speakers. He sighed and slouched in his seat, resting his head in his hand.

"I love this song…" He moaned, foot tapping to the music. "A lot of people don't like country, especially people like me."

Kenny snorted, shaking his head, "Yeah, people like you. Mister emo artist."

Kyle pouted playfully and smacked his friend's arm, glancing back outside. "I think country music is very inspiring, especially this stuff. It means freedom."

"Must be why you like it."

The redhead nodded slowly, lips moving vaguely to the lyrics. The boys listened in silence for half the track until the Jew spoke up again.

"This is going to be a very long week of driving if we don't talk, you know."

The blond shrugged and pulled into the coming up pit stop to get gas. "Well, what do you want to talk about?" He asked as he stepped out of the Cadillac, Kyle following with his wallet.

"I don't know." The redhead slipped his credit card into the slot and Kenny pushed the nozzle into the tank, letting the flammable liquid run. Kenny twisted his lips as he rested his arm on the top of the car, watching his friend.

"Hm… Do you… want to talk about why you kidnapped me?"

Kyle grimaced and shook his head immediately, leaning against the car. "No, not that. And I didn't kidnap you. Kidnapping would include unwillingness and struggling on your end."

"I was bored. I've just been sitting at home since school let out. My job had to let go due to lack of income. I guess all the driving seniors are leaving immediately, so there's less service." When the gas pump clicked, signaling his tank full, Kenny pulled the nozzle out and fixed the tank lid. "I don't think she's ever had a full tank of gas before. Never could afford it." He smiled sadly and patted the smooth side of the Cadillac, reaching out and messing up Kyle's curls.

"Thanks, dude," He smiled fondly, enjoying the feel of the silky locks between his rough fingers. Kyle pouted and turned away, though the blond could see a brightening on his cheeks.

"Yeah, whatever," He mumbled and stretched, revealing a sliver of white skin on his stomach.

Kenny giggled and headed to the driver's seat, "Mister grumpy. I want to get some snacks and you can drive for a bit, okay?"

Kyle nodded and gave a vague wave, heading off for the mini-mart across the small parking lot. The blond parked and followed inside, glancing around. He nonchalantly grabbed a bottle of beer, patting his wallet. He knew his fake ID sat inside. Hanging around with the Goths did have some advantages, including getting the best pot and a very convincing ID.

"You're underage," Came the voice of reason in the form of Kyle, his hands on his hips.

"I'm not going to be driving. We only have two hours until we get to Kansas City and we can crash for the night. Come on, dude, live a little. You said you wanted me to ruin you, right?" Kenny snickered and messed up his hair again, simply for the excuse of touching it. He snatched a bag of Fritos before heading to the counter, flirting with the previously bored cashier for a pack of cigarettes. Kenny glanced over his shoulder at Kyle, who shook his head. He wouldn't be buying his friend illegal activities. He pouted and shrugged, turning back to lean in toward the cashier, who responded with a giggle. After paying for his goods, he gave her a wink, an act that sent rigid shivers down Kyle's spine. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't like it. Maybe he just didn't like players. He had an experience with a player. An experience he would give up his left arm to forget.

Lost in his world, Kyle didn't notice as Kenny returned, head tilted. "You okay, dude?"

The redhead jumped and nodded quickly. "Um… Yeah." Kyle looked up at the taller blond. Puberty had been kind to Kenny McCormick, as well. His favorite color remained orange, which he stated proudly from his orange zip hoodie. His skin tanned in a way only brought from continuously being under the sun, covering well-toned muscles, obviously built by his mechanic job. Clean yellow hair fell over his shoulders slightly, his bangs falling into his eyes, blue as the skies in the mountains. They held deep, lifelong innocence, though a perverted glint often fell upon them. Even so, they were honest eyes, eyes that have seen and felt many wrongs. His hands were wide and the bones were apparent, but Kyle doubted he had ever seen stronger hands.

The redhead had always been fascinated by hands. They could make the softest touches, excite the most private parts of the body, create beautiful art, and yet protect with such ferocity that any offending hands would meet their match. However, Kyle learned that even the softest hand that could bring flutters to your stomach can always cause bruises. Gentle palms can curl into tight fists. Hands you once trusted can turn on you and sprout bruises, but you must keep silent. Those hands will hit you, but will be gentle to another in ways you thought were only reserve to you. But you were wrong.

The redhead deflated and nodded again. "Yeah, let's go. I want to get to Kansas City." He started out for the car and, confused with his friend's sudden change, Kenny followed.


End file.
